


stress positions

by Zsazsa4



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Class Issues, M/M, Missing Scene, Power Dynamics, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zsazsa4/pseuds/Zsazsa4
Summary: After the lashing, Crozier orders Little to discipline Tozer in private.
Relationships: Edward Little/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29
Collections: Lieutenant and Sergeant Gift Exchange





	stress positions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [for_autumn_i_am](https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_autumn_i_am/gifts).



He should have known he wasn’t going to get off that lightly. Tozer had felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t owned up to his part in that business with Lady Silence. Not all that guilty, mind, standing there at the lashing with its attendant tears, drool and blood. He’d seen much worse, thirty wasn’t too bad, but he reckoned that his part in it certainly wasn’t worth thirty, nor twelve neither. He couldn’t be expected to know why Hickey wanted to know where the girl was. Although he had known. Of course he had, and he’d wanted him to do it, just not enough to go with him.

Still, as a couple of days went by, he was pretty certain he’d got away with it, that Hickey and whoever he’d told hadn’t squealed on him. If they hadn’t dobbed in Tommy Armitage, after all, why would they drop Tozer in it when they’d even less reason to.

Except, then, that he was summoned to appear in the First Lieutenant’s cabin. Normally he talked to the officers in the Great Cabin or out on watch, but this wasn't too strange. Still, he had a feeling of foreboding in his gut. 

It was just Lieutenant Little - they’d be hard-pressed to fit any more than two of them into that cabin anyway. ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ he asked, nonchalant but his heart was going like blazes in his chest.

‘Yes. Do you know why?’

He’d done this himself with new recruits - _I don’t know sir; it’s Sergeant, not fucking sir, how fucking dozy are you lad we’ll sort that out right enough_ \- and he could give the right responses. But sod this for a laugh.

‘No, sir.’

‘We were very concerned about Mr Hickey, Mr Manson and Mr Hartnell finding the Esquimaux girl. As they didn’t know the location of her camp. And we - that is, command - were concerned to find out who had told them. And do you know what they told us?’

‘No, sir.’

Little glared at him, then. ‘You told Mr Hickey where the camp was. Didn’t you?’

Hickey had dobbed him in then. Well, he couldn’t blame him, he supposed. Go on, take it like a man, he told himself. ‘Yes, sir.’

Little seemed oddly not quite grave or angry enough for an officer playing out this bit of the ritual. ‘Under the circumstances, a public punishment was thought ill-advised, since you could hardly continue in the rank of sergeant afterwards. Therefore, I have been ordered to discipline you appropriately in private.’

And, Tozer reckoned, they weren’t sure the men would stand for it. Weren’t sure his men in particular would stand for it, although really they'd no need to fear there - they were hardly going to mutiny over this. Of course he didn’t say any of that, just stood straight and eyes front. It couldn’t be the lash, though - they’d want to hold him down for that, need more than one man, and you couldn’t hide it afterwards. He ran through the punishments in his head, official and casual, at sea and ashore. If they wouldn’t be flogging him he knew he could take any of the others.

In any case he’d be surprised if the lieutenant were much good with the cat. He looked nervy, shifting from foot to foot and looking at his boots. Perhaps he hadn't got the bottle for it. For the right sort of man it might not take much practice, but he couldn’t say for certain. He'd never had to use it himself. He liked to think he'd mind it, hate it, if he were told to lash someone, but in all honesty he wouldn't. It would just be another job. Just his duty.

‘Bend,’ the lieutenant said.

He’d seen this sort of punishment before - you'd to hold an uncomfortable stance until the strain became unbearable, it could go on for hours, they'd make the poor bloke in question do it day after day after day. He’d never seen it done like this before, though, wasn't sure what way he was supposed to move. A particularly sadistic officer would make the offending member of the other ranks squat, or tie him to something. Anyone normal would just fetch him a blow or two and be done with it. 

Little huffed impatiently. ‘I told you -’

‘Yes, but - what do you mean? Just like this?’

‘Just like this, _sir_. Over the table. And you can pull your trousers down,’ he added, as if an afterthought, which Tozer would bet decent money it wasn’t. Not just duty for him, then. 

He did it though, hesitant, smalls as well after looking at Little to confirm it, and braced himself against the table. This was well and truly outside of his experience - he’d come in for a few blows and kicks in his time, but probably less than his fair share. He’d never been flogged, being reasonably well-behaved and having the knack of not getting caught when he wasn’t. And this - he had not the faintest clue what this was leading up to. A birch, or a boy’s cat? Maybe, if he’d had to guess, on his bare behind like some lippy kid of a midshipman. Except that he hadn’t seen anything like that lying around. At any rate at least he’d get off lighter than Hickey.

And then - a smack from the lieutenant’s open palm. He was that surprised he laughed, just a bit. A stupid thing to do, but then this hurt so much less than anything he’d expected. Another, harder, rocking him forwards onto the desk, then another, an irregular rhythm. It wasn’t all that unpleasant, could have been a lot worse, but he couldn’t help tensing up in anticipation of the next hit.

‘Are you supposed to be doing this, sir?’ He doubted it, the whole thing was too peculiar, and it didn't hurt enough to be official. It was more irritating than anything else. Just enough of a sting to the blows that he couldn't detach himself from the situation. If the lieutenant would just get into a rhythm he could drift off until they were done. ‘Or did you come up with it yourself?’ 

Hellfire, that one had really stung, across the back of his thigh. There was something exhilarating about it, though - that he could take anything the lieutenant was giving out.

‘Be quiet,’ Little said tightly. ‘You’re just making it worse for yourself.’

That was certainly true. He'd always known when to shut up, which was most of the time when dealing with an officer, but now he couldn’t stop himself. ‘How long are you-’

‘Until you’re properly repentant, and you’ve learnt your lesson.’ He was breathing almost as hard as Tozer by then. ‘Have you?’

‘I shan’t be helping out Mr Hickey again, tell you - Christ,’ he swore, that one caught him just on the inside of the thigh, an inch or so higher and it might have tapped his stones.

‘You don't feel any remorse at all?’ Little asked, lips tight and thin. ‘You're not ashamed of your conduct, of your role in a direct contradiction of orders and dereliction of duty?’ But for all that officer guff his breathing was coming fast, faster than the exertion would merit. It ought to have been shameful, submitting to this, but Tozer refused to be humiliated by the lieutenant. With an act of will, he could make it so, turn it on him, because he had his suspicions about what was going on here.

Saying it out loud would be risky, but - something was well off here, had been from the start. ‘Am I ashamed? No, I wouldn't say I am.’ He kept his voice steady. ‘I’ll tell you for nothing, though, I wouldn’t much fancy being a middie crewed with _you_. Make a habit of this?’

The lieutenant abruptly stepped back. ‘That’s utterly vile. Don’t be so disgusting,’ he said, feeble rejoinder as it was.

Tozer could have laughed. He’d only suspected before but now he knew what Little was up to. ‘I suppose the Captain knows what you're doing, then? Pawing at my arse, that's Captain's orders, that’s the punishment he had in mind?’ 

No, he hadn't thought so, and Little had nothing to say to that. He twisted round to look at him, pink and white in the face, brows drawn together, pupils huge in those dark eyes. Something suspicious going on in his trousers, as well, no surprise there. 

‘Worse than a bruised bottom for you, if I wanted to squeal.’ Tozer grinned to himself. ‘Don't worry on that account. I'm quiet as the grave, me.’ 

Little redoubled the blows then, really going at him in earnest so that the sting made him grunt and grit his teeth. Nowhere near as bad as it could have been but he'd indulged the lieutenant long enough. 

‘All right, enough,’ he gritted out. ‘Fuck! I said enough.’ He stood up and half-turned. ‘You've had your fun.’ 

The lieutenant was breathing hard, pink rising at the top of his cheeks. Surprisingly small fellow, he was, out of that big uniform coat. If fair was fair, if Tozer had been allowed to fight back, he doubted Little would have stood much of a chance. Still, he didn't need a real lashing.

‘It isn't - we don't discipline for fun, Sergeant,’ he said, prissy as you like. ‘It’s for the good of the ship. For the good of the men, and for the man in question. You have something approaching these responsibilities, you know what it's like.’

‘No I bloody well don't,’ Tozer said, staring at him. 

The lieutenant didn't like Tozer looking at him one bit, pushed his head back down so that he was facing away again. 

‘It's mucky, how you do it,’ he said, and braced himself.

Instead, though, Little made a noise to himself; amused, or irritated, or whatever it was supposed to mean. ‘It’s - to accuse me of - that, it simply shows - I hadn’t realised how in need of correction you were.’

He was a bit surprised that Little wanted it like that, because there was nothing in Tozer that suggested the easily disciplined pupil. But then he supposed you had to make do, and perhaps it wasn’t easy discipline he was after. ‘And are you the one to do it, sir,’ he said. He wanted him to get on with it, but he wasn’t going to ask for it or say any of the contrite cringing things Little might be prompting him to. ‘Go on, then, show us.’ If you think you’re man enough.

All pretence dropped, Little pawed at his arse, firmly grasping and kneading his buttocks. ‘Quite something,’ he said, half to himself, as if Tozer were some prize piece of livestock. 

Tozer grunted and shivered at the touch, oversensitive all down to the backs of his thighs, even a light touch sparking his nerves. His cock even started to take an interest in the proceedings, which surprised him.

Little rubbed against him, the wool of his trousers chafing uncomfortably. Then he heard the telltale rustle and fumble as Little got himself out, pressed his prick up against Tozer’s behind. He felt hot, all over, like the touch was radiating out through his body. Little stroked fastidiously at Tozer’s prick, mostly at the head. It was a bit fussy and not so tight nor fast as he might have liked but something, anyway, coaxing him up to full hardness. 

‘Go on then,’ he said, ‘do it if you're going to do it.’ 

‘I hadn’t - I wasn’t going to -’ Little spluttered.

Now this was puzzling, and frustrating, Little’s endless stopping and starting and fannying about, because it was clear enough what he intended. Tozer himself had never quite had the trick of reading people who went too deep into themselves to follow, because he went through the world like this. There are things you have to do, and you do them; there are things you want, and you try for them. And trying for a thing is more fun than putting up with it.

‘You were going to save it for after I’d gone? Look, sir,’ he said, with the mockery of frank bluffness you had to use with most officers, ‘no skin off your nose, is it. And I might as well get something out of it.’ 

‘It is,’ Little said, ‘very much against the Articles, Sergeant.’ He’d recovered enough to have a try at a joke, then, that facetious officer humour he’d never found funny. But then you weren't supposed to, it was them laughing at you. ‘A court martial won’t expedite getting us into port, I’m afraid.’ He pinched the little bit of fat at the crease between Tozer’s buttocks and thigh, quite hard - it stung something awful, sensitive as he was, but his cock gave a twitch. A sense of sheer giddy relief still possessed him. 

‘In for a penny.’

‘Quite.’ A slick sound behind him, as well. Little gently pushed Tozer’s head back when he tried to raise it and get a better view. He couldn't tell what the lieutenant was slicking himself up with but soon enough he felt something pressing at his fundament. Not his prick, as he’d expected, but fingers, gently playing with his hole. The lieutenant’s other hand parted his arse cheeks and he liked the messing about more than he’d expected, liked the effect he was having on the lieutenant who was breathing hard just from looking.

First one, then the other, opening him up, pressing into him. The lieutenant found what he was searching for soon enough, pressing at that spot that sent sparks of white-hot pleasure up his spine. He heard himself groan as if from a distance and the lieutenant kept pressing at him, moving his fingers in circles. It became too much, too sharp, after only a short while, and he tried to squirm away, but Little took no notice. If anything he sped up his motion so that Tozer’s eyes squeezed shut and his cock twitched and drooled.

He couldn't stop himself from making noise, little animal noises into his forearms. 

‘I could gag you,’ Little said, conversational but a touch breathless, like they were taking a walk up a steep hill. ‘It isn't unheard of.’ 

‘Oh aye,’ Tozer spat back, not so steady as he intended, ‘does gagging some poor sod of an AB who's mouthed off get you hot?’ 

‘I've never ordered it done myself,’ Little said, almost petulant. ‘And you've -’ he breathed deeply. ‘ _Mouthed off_ more than enough to deserve it.’

It hurt at the same time as it pleased him, Little’s sweaty hand on his stinging arse and his fingers up him, splitting him open so that his whole body was centred on his hole. It pleased him even though or maybe because it hurt, a golden warmth and pressure building in his gut and at the base of his spine. He hadn’t been paying much attention to his cock, but he was close, he wouldn’t last much longer. ‘Hold on,’ he tried, ‘I’m close, I’ll -’

‘Good,’ Little said, ‘good,’ and kept going, pressing into him so that he did spend, despite himself, spurting off onto the table. He groaned as if he’d been punched in the gut, hissed as Little withdrew his fingers.

Little looked at him contemplatively. ‘You’re not bad for this,’ he added, in that manner they all had.

And thank you very fucking kindly, Tozer thought, but he didn’t say anything because he felt Little pressing his prick up against him.

He was out of practice at this, and even prepared as he was he felt a jolt of apprehension. But whatever Little had used eased the way and he made himself breathe slowly, breathe through that overwhelming stretch, that burn that wasn’t quite like anything else. Soon enough Little was fully seated and he got used enough to the sensation to rediscover the pleasure in it, less urgent and teetering on the edge of discomfort but not half bad, either. Little huffed wetly into the curve of his neck and shoulder. Whenever Little hit that spot directly Tozer flinched and his prick dribbled another bit of spend, but in the main the act was satisfying, diffuse. He went slow, at first, so that Tozer pushed back onto him, the feeling of Little against his arse and thighs exhilarating too.

Little drove into him then, sped up so that Tozer groaned and clutched at the edge of the table, before Little pulled all the way out, too quickly. He was about to ask what the hell he was playing at but then felt his spunk against his burning arse, a few spurts of it. Of course. Little gave a strangled gasp - the whole thing must have been quite a sight for him, his reddened buttocks and the opaque white spend against it. 

Little pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed ineffectually at Tozer’s backside, which put him off a bit. He could have put his fingers back in if he’d wanted to do anything, Tozer’s hole clenching down on nothing, feeling slackly empty. Little spread his buttocks and ran his thumb over his arsehole, which gaped open when he got close enough, like he was trying to pull him back in. Little made a quiet noise under his breath, half a gasp and half a chuckle. Tozer had tried to laugh, he'd tried to sneer, but after that bit of fun he really hated the lieutenant then, for the first time. As a man and not just as a rank, a uniform. 

‘Do you ever just do it regular?’ he asked, turning around and looking Little full in the face. ‘Or do you need all that messing about?’ It did seem like the sort of thing men like that did - they were so soft and pampered and jaded that something went wrong with them, they hadn't the steel to do it without something peculiar. Or so he imagined. He himself would have preferred the fuck without everything leading up to it. But then Little, brows furrowed and his eyes still fixed on Tozer's arse, had probably got more out of the smacking than the buggery. 

They met each other's gaze, Tozer not bothering with standing straight and eyes front and all of that. Little bit his lip and just stared for a second. ‘Get out,’ he said. His colour was even worse than before, white and red like he was about to cry. He looked, somehow, distraught, and he wasn't even the one with a right to. 

‘Can I pull my things up first, sir?’ he said, cheeky as you like. ‘Or should I go back like this?’ Not like Little was going to haul him up for insubordination now.

‘Why?’ Little asked, weary. ‘Do you so find yourself in need of further correction?’

‘Not me,’ Tozer said. ‘No fear there.’ He thought, I have gone an awfully long way just to end up back here. Does it never end, does it always have to be like this? Did I go to India and Arabia and even bloody Woolwich at all, and no touch in any of those places that wasn’t half-meant as a blow? Still, hackneyed as it was, in his experience you could send a man halfway around the earth and the only way he’d come back is worse. ‘Funny, I might have said you’d corrupted me rather than corrected me. If anyone were to ask, that is. It’s all a bit complicated for me, though, I’ll leave it to you lot.’

Little raised a hand to him, then, as if he might slap him across the face, backhand him. Useless because he could see it coming a mile off. Tozer wondered if he knew how to land a decent punch. He lowered his hand, anyway, before either could find out. 

‘No, I didn't fucking think so,’ Tozer said, sorting himself out and tucking himself back in. ‘If you'll pardon the language, sir.’ He was unsteady on his feet for a moment, spend and sweat cooling between his thighs, but he pulled himself together right quick.

Little didn’t acknowledge him, which was a half a pity, just sat at the table and began to write. He had to wipe the surface off with a wrinkle of his nose first. Tozer took it that he'd been dismissed and made his way out into the passageway, rolling his shoulders, steadying himself. He'd have liked to hear the report the lieutenant would make to the captain, he thought, a touch sourly. But mostly he was just pleased that he'd got away with it, more than got away with it, no flogging, no duty, just - whatever that had been. It hardened you, all of it, just living, and even if you were careful it could make you brutal. But you could take whatever your fellow man had to offer. I won, he told himself hotly, never mind what it might look like to anyone watching. I won. I won.


End file.
